


you were marked for death (then she died)

by ElasticElla



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Helena drags the corpse back across the cemetery, andugh, the bastard could have done her a favor and bled out where he was struck, rather than limping away when she was prepping the site.
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Laurel Lance
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13
Collections: Femflash February 2020, femslashficlets: tarot prompt challenge





	you were marked for death (then she died)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampirePaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts).



> i haven't written this fandom in uh a while so hopefully it works for you ^.^

Helena drags the corpse back across the cemetery, and _ugh_ , the bastard could have done her a favor and bled out where he was struck, rather than limping away when she was prepping the site. A hundred or so meters shouldn’t feel so far, but he’s heavy and the moon is shining bright and full, and she wants this started five minutes ago.

Resurrections are a tricky business, full of a couple dozen rules that might not even be real. But there is one that matters, that takes all precedence: the spell can only be attempted on a person once. So while Helena thinks any body would do, she’s sure to get one with pork in his belly, blood on his knuckles, and three broken bones.

Nothing will stop her from bringing Laurel back. 

.

Every full moon Helena brings her a new body. It’d be best if she could feed her some magical blood, but Laurel’s always been squeamish around death. A happy compromise in all the corpses being truly terrible people, and the only witches she’s found are either too good or too strong to take on alone. So mundane blood it is, she gluts the earth with it. 

(There are few left on her family tree, and she takes sheers to it, prunes the last of them.)

.

Thirteen turns of the moon later, it is time. Today’s corpse is lighter, leaner, approximately the same size as Laurel though younger. Tonight there’s a shovel, and she digs down five and a half feet before switching to her hands. There won’t be any remnants of the wooden coffin, not after the ritual’s first step. She’s careful not to dig with her nails, cupping the dirt away. (She appreciates the symmetry, removing the dirt she once threw over her coffin.)

Laurel isn’t in good shape to put it delicately. No matter, it’s been a long time, and Helena will set her to rights. She climbs out with Laurel, carefully sets her beside the corpse, placing their hands together. The corpse is still warm, and eyes closed, Helena yanks at the fading energy pressing it into Laurel. Pressing until the corpse is a dried husk, and she opens her eyes, yawning. A few more steps before bed, she reminds herself, and really, it’s been a ridiculous amount of luck that no one’s discovered her moonlit rendezvouses. Adrenaline rushes through her veins, and tired as she is, she couldn’t sleep if she wanted to. 

The corpse gets shoved in the grave and buried. Sweat is prickling over her brow as the faintest hints of light appear on the horizon, and she kneels beside her darling. Laurel merely looks asleep now, admittedly in disgusting clothes, but her natural color is back, her warmth returned. She places a delicate kiss on her lips, breathes into her lungs. 

And Laurel Lance awakens.


End file.
